


Boy

by betterrecieved



Series: Five Ways Nagron's First Time Might Have Gone [3]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: Vengeance, Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-24
Updated: 2013-06-24
Packaged: 2017-12-16 00:15:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/855609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betterrecieved/pseuds/betterrecieved
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PWP.  Violent sex.  But not really.  Very submissive Nasir.  This is vanilla as a birthday cake though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boy

In Sinuessa, Nasir is stunned for tense hard-breathing moment. Agron’s raised voice, force of Agron’s possessiveness filling up room like thick choking fog.

Then Agron makes vows impossible, and Nasir is no longer speechless. He should be frightened by his cock’s thickening, of implied ownership that draws him closer to his man like magnet to steel.

Instead he can only laughingly gravitate toward Agron’s heated eyes like helpless moth.  

He makes attempt at savoring ardor, with hands that slowly divest them both of cumbersome clothing, with kisses that bring surge of Agron’s strength to momentary standstill. 

But Agron will have him how he will have him, and Nasir will only take it, because he _wants_ it.   He has not purposely brought out beast in his man, but he cannot help but fall open-eyed into fiery chasm of Agron’s possessiveness. 

And in his own rough, demanding way, Agron is gentle.  Sways them both as Nasir fits himself into familiar curve of Agron’s shoulder.  The calm before the cruel, and Nasir does not know what to do with his hands when Agron’s teeth sink in, hard like first time Agron took him.  

He cannot pull away, grip of teeth on his neck is too harsh, and pain can only be increased if he moves.   He cannot pull Agron’s restraining arm away either; he is not strong enough by half.  Can only take pleasure that floods him in wake of startling pain and flaring pain when Agron’s big hand curls around his neck and presses.  Still sharper bite is  tempered by hand stroking his hammering heart, and Nasir can only gasp with what little breath Agron allows him. 

But Agron gives him time to recover from dizzying bites.  Tosses him bodily onto bed and suckles his cock, nibbles his neck, covers Nasir’s body with his own so that Nasir hopes he will be taken this way: ankles held together and thrown over Agron’s wide shoulder. 

Agron leaning down over him with glowing demanding eyes, Nasir’s stomach clenching.   Nasir screaming it out: “I am yours!”

 Agron only moves behind him, takes him the the lazy, easy way. The manner in which they fuck on rarest occasions when they have all morning; Nasir can take it longer if cock does not penetrate so deeply inside.

Agron’s hand lifts Nasir’s thigh, pushes it forward, bends him like wire. 

To be taken like this kills the man in him, reduces him to Agron’s stuttering boy, and tempting as that may be, he would be more, give more.  And even  then he is for most part meant to be pleasured treasured coddled, this is unspoken agreement between them.  Yet tonight is all about what Agron can do, and Nasir loves what Agron can do. 

But there is another unspoken agreement, one which Nasir himself has broken: _that_ smile is for _Agron_ , lashes bat and eyes cut sideways, flirt-ways, sex-ways , only for _Agron_.

Head of Agron’s cock pops into him, smooth shallow thrusts. .  He is sheath to Agron’s sword - corners of his mouth lift, even as edges of his fingernails scratch harsh trail along Agron’s thighs.

Nasir wants to mouth Agron’s fingers, wants the comfort of suckling lazily on two of them, imagining them fat and slick with salty-cream drippings, the way Agron lets him if he promises not to panic and choke himself.

But Agron is busy stroking smoothly over Nasir’s skin, making a pillow for Nasir’s neck with fist hovering by Nasir’s jaw, so Nasir makes claws, drags them up Agron’s skin until Agron moves his hand to his front.

Nasir finds his own fingers, quite by accident, suckles them, makes his own smiling, giddy comfort against shallow little fucks into first few inches. 

Then Agron is a giant all around him, and he is infinitesimal in those arms, a speck of a man who could not move boulder that is Agron, not one inch, not if life depended upon escape.

When Agron kisses his cheek, Nasir should know what is coming, but he never knows, he is stupid like this, trusting, as open as his body can be, tight as he is.   When it comes, it comes all at once, and Nasir winces tenses almost clenches before he remembers not to do that bad thing, never to do that when the thrust starts so strong.

And moments pass, and gasps and gasps, and Nasir is taking it, somehow, how he never knows, but just barely he is and it is so goodbadhurtcantyessssss

Then Agron sinks vicious fangs into Nasir’s neck, digs his fingers into Nasir’s hip to rock him back, impale him deeper.

And Nasir in true state of panic, unthinkingly tears himself away from the teeth, though the sharp scraping pain makes him grimace and scream.   But he cannot escape from the cock filling him, can only scream it out, while his man stamps his name on Nasir’s body like wet crimson seal.

The first time Agron takes him is like this also: shock like icy water thrown over warm welcome:

Agron is gentle with his hands, skims his flanks and holds him close. Soothes the panic that has Nasir clawing at Agron’s forearms, flushes the burn of impossibly big cock with cool words:

“I am here, Nasir.”  Kiss to Nasir’s trembling lips. 

“I have you.” Stroking back Nasir’s hair to kiss his neck. 

But Agron’s cock is hard and hot and cruel, and when Nasir attempts to squirm away, cock is right behind, chasing him, pushing deeper.

Locked tight in captivity of Agron’s steel grip, hard body curled around him like walls of fortress fencing him in, Nasir can only moan and scratch and whimper.

“You can take it, Nasir.  Only a little more.”

Nasir is no virgin. Yet there is nothing _little_ about Agron screwing his way slickly into his hole; he has never had man so fucking _large_.  Is this Germanian trait, this muscled physicality like bear, this cock like fucking forearm seeking entrance to his body.

“I _cannot_ ,” Nasir sobs out. His voice hisses back at him, bounced from marble surface to marble surface of temple alcove.  He is crying in refusal, denial.  Agron’s love will kill him, but Agron loves him too much to cease attempt.

“This is gentlest position,” Agron assures.  “Already head of my cock begins to breach you, then worst will be over.”  Agron’s voice is so strained Nasir can barely understand him.  “You must relax clenched body.”

Nasir inhales deep as he possibly can with Agron’s arms restricting even his lungs’ movement. As he exhales, two things simultaneously occur: sharp screeching pain grips Nasir’s earlobe and mushroom head of Agron’s cock surges through his tightness.

“You are mine.” Agron repeats this over and over, Nasir realizes - when he can think, when he can hear sound besides blood swooshing crazily in his head. “You are mine.”

“I am yours,” Nasir agrees wetly.  His nose is running, mucous drips into his mouth.  Agron brushes his face clean with sheet, strokes his mustache with fingertips which Nasir immediately begins to suckle without heat or hunger, until he cries himself to floating, weightless calm. 

In Sinuessa, it is also a long time before Nasir can do more than cry, clutching at Agron’s gauntlets, grimacing and gasping.  And like first time, Agron calmly waits for panicked tide of love and shock and hurt to recede.

He comforts, he soothes, he says nonsense and so much sense that Nasir makes silent apologies to gods above; Agron is his religion now. 

And in all that he says, Agron makes no apologies, not one, and Nasir would be shocked if he were to do so.  He is Agron’s boy, he did lapse in judgement.   Agron overreacted, but his man’s love is as immoveable as his arms, as rooted as mountain.   And Nasir knew.  From first time, he knew, and wanted it that way.

And like first time, they go on forever from this, sated, reminded, bonded, until next time that reminds them of first time.


End file.
